None Shall Sleep
by DamselOnDrums
Summary: All places have meaning, but it's the people you experience those places with that give them meaning. That's why Venice means so much to the two of them.


_To kick off my free fic bonanza, here is the first submission I received from the lovely Dana. The main reason I did this early was because I've never been to Italy and needed to research this a lot. It was so interesting to read up on Venice and the history of it! The title comes from the last aria of Turandot by Puccini and Alfano, "Nessun Dorma" (which is gorgeous and I highly recommend that you YouTube it right now. Readyy go), which translates to "None Shall Sleep". _

_As per usual, please enjoy!_

_If you haven't submitted a prompt for free fic, make sure to drop me a line tonight or tomorrow here._

**Disclaimer**:_ hahahahahahaaaaahahaha!_

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The Doctor leaned back in his seat, rather pleased with himself.

The date was the ninth of September, 1926, and he had just taken Rose Tyler on the most fantastic not-a-date yet.

He had planned out the entire day, from "sunrise" to the present, and, for whatever reason, the universe decided to cooperate with those plans. He'd started his morning off by whipping up a batch of his famous banana chocolate chip pancakes, complete with home-made whipping cream – if you counted a farm in up-state Vermont as 'home' – tea, and all her favourite fruits, and brought the meal to her in bed. From there, he told her to meet him in the console room in an hour, wearing what was laid out for her in the wardrobe room. When asked what the occasion was, he grinned. "Just because."

Precisely fifty-six minutes later, as he had predicted, Rose Tyler was striding into the console room in a midnight blue evening gown that hugged and flowed in all the right places, delicate diamond earrings, and a matching necklace with enough jewels from the planet Mornag to buy all of New York City and half of London – completely gorgeous, if you wanted his unbiased, professional opinion. So gorgeous, in fact, his respiratory bypass had to kick in. Unlike his last incarnation, his compliment flew from his mouth with no conditional clauses. Also unlike his last incarnation, he took her hand and kissed it before entwining their fingers and leading her out the TARDIS doors.

It was the tail end of summer in Venice, 1926. The sun was shining, making the air a little warmer than was average for the city at that time, but not enough to cause the Doctor's internal timey-wimey alarms to sound. He transferred her hand from his to the crook of his elbow and, in that way, they made their way through the streets of Venice, the Doctor pointing out all the historical buildings and what happened to them. Rose laughed when he retold the story of how he had helped – well, _help_ was a bit of a stretch; it was more like _supervising_, or micromanaging if you asked Rose – the Humiliati build the Madonna dell'Orto.

He treated her to a day of relatively tame adventure before guiding her to a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant right on the water for dinner. The staff seemed overjoyed to see the Doctor there and were so taken with Rose that the owner's wife came down from their apartment above the restaurant to kiss her head and fuss over her. Needless to say, both of them left feeling excessively full and rather lethargic. Nevertheless, the Doctor still had plans for them, plans he intended on seeing through.

That's how they wound up at Teatro Le Fenice. Rose was immediately swept away with the sheer beauty of the building. He grinned like a maniac at her for a long while before collecting himself enough to take her gently by the arm and bring her inside, to the private balcony seats he had saved just for them. "It's a special night, Rose," he told her as she sat down. "Tonight is the night _Turandot_ premiers in Venice. It's only the fifth time it has been performed."

Despite her uncertainty of whether or not she would actually enjoy an opera, the two found themselves wrapped up in the plot and tied in with the characters within minutes of the opening at the palace. By the time 'Nessun Dorma' rolled around, the Doctor was holding Rose close as tears carved waterfalls down her cheeks. He hummed along soothingly in her ear only to feel her hold tighter.

When the vocalists had taken their final bows, the two time travellers returned to the outside world, Rose trying her hardest to erase the tear marks from her face. He smiled at that and gently reminded her it was night and therefore no one would see her clearly enough to tell that she'd been crying. She pulled him close, a hand snaking around his waist as she thanked him. He held her for a few minutes before bouncing back to his normal excited-puppy state, tugging her along until they got to a dock jutting out into the canals that ran through the city. There, at the edge, was a man in formal, yet comfortable looking, clothes, a dark, elegant gondola bobbing up and down with the water behind him. He smiled, tipping a hat Rose hadn't realised he'd been wearing, and gestured for them to climb in.

"They're very hard to come by, these days," the Doctor murmured in her ear as they settled into the boat. "They faded out of fashion in the late 1800s, and weren't revived until around the twenty-first century." Sensing she was about to say something, he tugged on her arm and encouraged her to lean back and enjoy the sights of the lanterns that lit the way through the winding canals.

That's how they stayed, and that's why he was so pleased with himself. They'd had a fantastic day, and he couldn't think of a better way to end it. _Although_, he thought as the man rowing the gondola took a familiar turn, _maybe there is_. He shifted so he was sitting up, then turned to his companion. "Rose?" he said softly. She perked up and smiled broadly at him. He gestured for her to sit up. "There's something up here I want you to see."

It wasn't long before they both felt the gondola slow its pace and a stunning inclosed bridge, lit by more lanterns came into view. "That," the Doctor said, pointing, "is called the Bridge of Sighs. It was built in the early seventeenth century to connect the old prison with the new one across the river."

"Why's 't called the Bridge of Sighs?" she asked, turning her head to peer at him curiously.

"Well, there are two explanations for that," he said as the gondola crawled closer. "The first says that it it's called that because the prisoners who had to walk across it would sigh at their last look at the outside world."

She hummed, gazing up at it. "And whot's the other?"

The Doctor shifted, glancing back at the driver and giving him a subtle nod. They slowed even more, just barely moving as they went under it. "Well, Rose Tyler, that is something that would be easier for me to show you, then explain to you rather than the other way around."

She turned to ask him what he meant by that, but was immediately cut off when he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. It was just the faintest of touches, but it was enough that when he pulled back, though just a fraction of an inch, made her miss it immensely. Not a second later, his lips were back on hers, pressing just a bit more. When he pulled back again, though she still missed his lips, she grinned. "Well?"

He reciprocated her grin. "Legend has it that if anyone is to kiss under the bridge, they will have an eternal love for each other, and the sighs are from those romantics who are caught up in it."

Her eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as she gawked at him. "What– Really?"

He tugged at his ear. "_Well_, technically it says a kiss at _sunset_, but I missed that by a few hours, and I figured the point still stood. Besides–"

It was his turn to be cut off as she kissed him, slow and sweet, a kiss that he could – and would – describe later as "brilliant, and simply _Rose_."

After two years of being in Pete's World, the Doctor thought he could truly say that he knew Rose Tyler better than anyone else in existence, even her own mother (though maybe he wouldn't tell Jackie that...). Yes, the Doctor prided himself in knowing what was going on in that pretty little head of hers...most of the time.

Every once in awhile, she would surprise him. But not just a little "oh-I-grabbed-a-new-brand-of-milk-from-Tesco's-tod ay" surprise. His Rose? No way. It was always the "I-can-actually-speak-fluently-in-three-hundred-la nguages-plus-the-ones-on-earth" kind of surprises. Not that he minded, really. In fact, he _loved_ when she surprised him.

The one catch to that, however, was when the surprise stressed him out – more accurately, when he knows she has a surprise but physically cannot figure it out until she takes pity on him. And _this _was definitely one of those times.

After ten months in the parallel universe, he'd taken the leap and asked her to "do the domestic" with him, and after thirteen months, the two sealed the deal in the back garden of her parents' mansion. They never took time off work to take a proper holiday – _honeymoon_, he constantly had to remind himself, _they call them honeymoons_ – but it had never really bothered them. That's why when Rose said they were going to go, he became an anxiety-stricken mess. She told him not to worry and that she'd take care of all the details, but that only made his anxiety levels rise. After that, she hadn't breathed a word about it. Well, until two weeks ago when she announced they were leaving in fourteen days.

He wasn't even allowed to know where they were going. She literally handled everything.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. She'd arranged for them to spend two weeks in Italy, starting in Rome and working their way up from there. They spent three days lazing around in Rome – mostly their hotel room, though – before venturing out and playing Spot the Differences between the universes (in Pete's World, the Colosseum was still in tact; go figure). They took their time getting to Florence, stretching a normally three hour car ride into a two-day sightseeing adventure, then spending another two in Florence itself. They travelled up to Verona – which, as it turned out, was _not_ the setting for this universe's _Romeo and Juliet_, but was still just as beautiful – and spent a few days there as well.

When they went to leave Verona, the tables began to turn. It started when Rose blindfolded the Doctor and asked him not to pester her as she drove them to wherever the hell they were going next. The Doctor's anxiety level spiked once again.

But when the blindfold came off and he could see where they were, he decided that he would have to start making a list of all the ways Rose Tyler amazed him, this particular feat being somewhere near the top.

They were in Venice, and even though it was a different world, this one city was exactly the same, canal for canal, building for building, not a thing was out of place. It was a sight almost to beautiful for him to handle. Almost.

It was apparently her turn to plan a day for them in Venice. They went to the same restaurant as before – the owners still loved them – but saw different sights and skipped the opera. It was sunset when she pulled him into a gondola, and he knew where they were headed. He grinned like an idiot and pulled her close to his body, enjoying her proximity and the simple scent of _Rose_. The driver behind them was humming as they glided along, and it was a minute before he recognized it. Apparently she had to, for he heard her sniffle quietly and felt her nestle into his side a little more snugly. He was humming 'Nessun Dorma.'

The Bridge of Sighs came up rather suddenly as he tried to soothe her without words. The driver slowed to a gentle stop just below the Bridge, still humming away, and turned slightly to give them privacy.

Knowing where this was headed, and unabashedly enjoying it, he leaned down, completely prepared for the kiss of his lifetime. Instead, he was met with one of her delicate – _well_, it was delicate at that particular time – hands against his lips. "Wait," she murmured and shifted so they could look at each other properly. Her eyes were shining, but it didn't look like she'd been crying like she had been the last time they were in Venice. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. "Sorry. I just wanted t' see you." She smiled shyly, something he hadn't seen her do but once. Ever.

"I'm right here," he assured, quietly, and they both leaned then, meeting in the middle for a tender, passionate, breathtaking kiss, one that broke their top ten.

When he pulled back to look at her, he frowned. There was a single tear trailing down her face that he automatically wiped away with the pad of his thumb. She shut her eyes as he cupped her cheek and guided her face to align with his. "What is it, ragazza mia preziosa?"

She gave a watery smile at his perfect Italian before looking him in the eye. "Doctor," she practically choked. "I'm pregnant."

It took him a minute to respond, unable to form adequate words to respond _with_. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, scrambling for something – _any_thing – to say. When her face began to crumple, he had a stroke of genius. In barely a second, his lips were on hers again for a kiss that most definitely broke their top five. When they pulled away, the best he could come up with was, "I love you," and those seemed to be more than good enough for her.


End file.
